


Limbo

by Iknowthebattle



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-24 17:41:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15635568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iknowthebattle/pseuds/Iknowthebattle
Summary: An anon sent the following prompt;Timmy gets set up with someone on a blind date (maybe Liz or one of Armies pals do it—think he should go out and have fun instead of hanging around all the old married folks) and it forces Armie to confront his feelings, ones he’s been staunchly ignoring, when he’s swamped with jealousy over Timmy and his date.So, here goes. xx





	Limbo

 

**_Summer 2017_ **

 “I don’t know, man. A blind date?”

Timmy twisted his lips up and down, side to side; giddy to be in Armie’s massive kitchen, nervous about everything else.

Armie was nodding, chopping onions at the counter to soak and marinate for the waiting steaks.

“Yep. Friend of Nick’s, well, friend of mine.” He pointed at himself using the knife and Timmy winced.

“What? I’m a pro. I know what I’m doing.”  Armie was slinging his wrist around, still holding the sharp blade by the handle. He was grinning. 

Tim nodded. “Yeah…with the _knife_ …or _me_?”

Armie laughed, uncomfortable. Tim was doing that thing again, flirting dressed up as sarcasm.

“Dude. I know for a fact you haven’t gotten laid in months. What, has it been, 3 months at _least_?”

Timmy shook his head, cocked a hip against the counter, put up two fingers.

“ _Two_ months? See? That’s tragic.”

Timmy scoffed, almost rolled his eyes. “What? Tragic? Man, whatever, my last one was-“

Tim stopped; cast a glance at Armie who was avoiding eye contact, doubly focused on his finely chopped vegetables.

“No sense in looking back Tiny Tim.” Armie pointed the knife to the wall, still not looking at Timmy. “Keep your eyes on the prize.”

Timmy laughed. “The prize? Some girl I don’t know who you say is your friend is my prize?”

Armie shook his head.

“Guy.”

Tim pulled up his sagging jeans, hands, fingers frozen on the band of his boxers, sweater falling off one shoulder, staring at Armie.

“Wait, what?”

Armie put down the knife, turned to look at Timmy.

“Yeah. Jamie.”

“Jamie?” Timmy didn’t know why he was saying his name out loud. He had no fucking clue who this person was.

Armie burst out laughing, leaning his upper body over the marble countertop, his grey t-shirt spotted with water on the front.

“Dude, I’m fucking with you. It is Jamie, but he’s a she. She’s your age, 25, I think?”

“I’m 21,” Timmy shot back as if they were arguing.

“Yeah, that’s what I said.” Armie, oblivious as always.

“How do you know a 25 year old?” Timmy’s voice rose in pitch, judgement.

“Fuck you, I’m not that old!” Armie threw a clean dish towel in Timmy’s face but he caught it, tucking it back onto the handle of the oven carefully.

“Okay, so, how do you know this Jamie person?”  His small chore was done.

Armie was avoiding his eyes again, busying himself with refilling Archie’s water bowl. It actually said Woof on the front.

Timmy snapped his fingers, laughing the way an obnoxious 21 year old would. He sounded even younger, the noise caught between _I fucking knew it_ and _I fucking hate you._

“Fuck, you barely know her! Let me guess, she’s really Nick’s friend?” He watched Armie for a beat.

“Oh shit, does Nick even still talk to her or is it like a…they met at a party once and exchanged numbers and so now they’re…’friends’  type of situation?”

Timmy did quotation marks with his fingers, falling over laughing.

Armie was quiet. He placed Archie’s water bowl on the floor beside his food, taking extra time to make sure both bowls were perfectly aligned.

He turned to look at Timmy, his face long. He seemed exhausted now, annoyed. Timmy’s presence had gone from charming to draining just like that.

“Hey, look. It was Nick’s idea, alright? I don’t know why he didn’t just tell you himself. Nobody’s saying you have to go, we- _he_ just thought it would be a nice change for you.”

Timmy made a face. “A change from what?”

Armie motioned around his kitchen. “This, us, me and Elizabeth. Hanging out with old married people all the time.”

Timmy let himself roll his eyes this time, not caring how immature it made him seem. He even went so far as to fold his arms.

“Who said I was sick of hanging out with old married people?”

Armie sighed. “You know what I mean.”

“Why do _you_ get to decide that?”

Armie put his hands up, innocent. “Like I said, this is all Nick so don’t sass the messenger. Just tell him to fuck off. He’s a big boy, he can take it.”

Timmy thought about it, clicking his tongue from one side of his mouth to the other.

“Nah. You know what? Fuck it, I’ll do it.”

Armie looked at him, snapping his neck over too quickly, his body frozen, tight.

“Wait, you’re serious? You’re going to let Nick hook you up with some rando he met on the roof of some hotel party?’

Timmy savored this moment; it was delicious, watching Armie react like this. It was exactly how he knew it would be, Armie focused only on him, fully invested in his decision now. This was at least one reason he agreed to meet this not-friend of Nick’s. It took everything in him not to bounce around the kitchen, taunting and teasing Armie in a sing-song voice, _I’ll never tell._

Timmy shrugged; lower back against the counter where Armie had stopped working, arms still folded across his chest, sweater covering his hands.

“Why not? Like you said, I’m in the middle of a drought. It’ll be good for me to meet some local people.”

Armie was still looking at him.

“Some local people? Tim, you don’t even know this girl.”

“Yeah…but isn’t that kind of the point of a blind date?”

Armie started to argue, but shut his mouth. A first.

Tim watched his face flicker like a well-timed slide show, from confusion _(this wasn’t part of his plan when he started unfurling this whole twisted idea with the clear upper hand)_ to an over-sized, bright smile, not his genuine drowsy, droopy eyed grin _(fuck it, if you’re doing this, I’m gonna literally grin and bear it.)_

Timmy waited for Armie to say something more, but all he got was, “Well, have fun brother!”

A pathetic, mealy reward for his efforts.

He actually clasped Timmy on the shoulder before moving past him, leaving the kitchen feeling empty; a hollow victory.

~ ~ ~

**_2:38 a.m._ **

**_Two nights later_ **

A quick, happy exchange and the sound of a car door closing were muffled through the walls but Armie heard everything clearly.

He was laying on the couch, flipping through his phone, never a good idea after midnight. He had hidden Twitter in a folder that he intentionally named something random so he could never find it, and then had deleted the damn thing all together.

 _Never going back_ , he told himself.

He opened and closed the News app. Instagram he left open longer than he should have, fingers hovering over his feed, refreshing every two minutes looking for something, getting nothing, not expecting him to post there, but checking anyway because what the hell else did people do?

The front door was opening, closing softly, intentionally.

Armie watched his own chest rise and fall, the light from the exiting car casting his living room in splinters of yellow light. His feet and ankles stuck out from the edge of the blanket.

Timmy was in the entryway to the foyer, his set of house keys jingling, twirling around his finger. He brought in the smell of food and alcohol.

“Armie?”

He knew Timmy’s eyes were adjusting to the dark, he was probably blinking, taking off his shoes like Elizabeth had instructed when he first came to stay with them.

“Yep.”

Armie decided against faking sleep. He wasn’t a child.

He heard Timmy pad over on socked feet to the nearest table lamp, switching it on. It would slowly become brighter, but for now it was a dim glow, lighting Tim from underneath, scraping the muscle out of his face.

Armie was looking at him. He was hovering near the end of the couch, biting his thumb nail.

“Have fun?”

Tim nodded.

“Yeah, Jamie’s cool.”

Armie smirked. “Cool.”

Timmy’s lips curved up on one side. “What? What’s wrong?”

Armie shook his head, lips out, every effort to appear casually curious, as if he hadn’t been waiting up until nearly 3 a.m. for a 21 year old to come back from a first date.

 “Nothin’. Everything is… _cool_.”

Timmy laughed, quiet, dark, tucking his hands under his arm pits. He was still a little drunk.

“What bar did you guys go to?”

Timmy shrugged. “Some bar in China…um…Koreatown? Had dinner there too…some little hole in the wall ramen place, I know that doesn’t narrow it down, haha.”

“How perfectly hipster of you.”

Timmy shrugged, relaxed, happy.

“Yeah, well. Sorry it wasn’t the Beverly Hills Hilton and In and Out Burger after. Maybe next time.”

“Next time?” Armie ignored the slight insult tossed his way, laser focused on the last part of his sentence.

“Yeah, I think we’re gonna hang out again soon, maybe this weekend.”

“Wow. Shit. Maybe Nick has a future career as a matchmaker.”

Timmy nodded, swiping a hand across his mouth. “Yeah, better than being the Hammers babysitter and pool boy right?”

He laughed, Armie smiled, watching him, not joining in on the merriment. Timmy was just drunk enough to think his offenses were jokes.

“Huh. I see.”

A beat.

“What does she look like?”

“Who?”

“ _Who?_ Jamie. The person you just had dinner and drinks with?”

“Oh. Yeah, well…she’s kinda tall…brown hair…”  

“Show me.”

Tim blinked. “Huh?”

Armie held his hand out.

“Give me your phone. You’re young. I know you took a photo of her.”

Timmy pulled out his phone without argument, unlocking the screen, finding what he was looking for without much effort.

He held the phone up so Armie could see.

Armie took the phone, holding it close to his face, squinting. Jamie was smiling, holding up a silly, fruity cocktail in a bar with a low ceiling, back lit by red fairy lights on a wooden wall behind her.

He handed the phone back.

“Cute.”

Timmy looked at the photo briefly before putting the phone away again.

“Glad you approve.”

Armie looked up at Timmy, a slow burn from the middle of his chest to his face.

“I didn’t say I approved. I said she was cute.”

“Well…okaaaaaay.”

Armie watched Timmy try to decide what his next move would be, what was the best thing to say, what was his line?

Armie felt triumphant watching this moment, seeing every single thought run across Timmy’s face. He was a human pin ball machine, every emotion hitting a wall, making noise and sounding the alarm, sending a signal to the player in front of him.

“So what now?”

Armie’s eyes shot open at Timmy’s words.

Armie stared at him, but now he was _actually_ _on_ his fucking cell phone, texting away with numb, clumsy fingers, smiling stupidly against the dim blue glow of the screen.

“Let me guess…you’re texting Jamie?” 

Timmy bit the inside of his jaw.

“That sounded more like a question, not a guess. And no.” He looked up at Armie. “Texting Sersh.”

“Saoirse?”

“Yeah. Saoirse. You know her-“

“Yes I know her, _Jesus_ Tim.”

Timmy raised one eyebrow. “Tim? Haven’t heard that in a while. You usually only call me that when you’re annoyed with me…or you’re tired, or hungry or grumpy or… _oh_.”

Timmy’s voice went soft. He walked closer to the couch, suddenly aware of the sound of their voices, the space he took up in a house full of sleeping bodies. He hung his head, standing above Armie, looking down at him, a first.

“So…what now?” Timmy repeated, this time a whisper.

Armie reached up, rubbed the underside of Timmy’s wrist with a single finger.

“Now…we don’t talk about Jamie anymore.”

Timmy nodded.

“Now…” Armie was rubbing the same spot on Timmy’s wrist and palm with four fingers, his thumb on the top of his hand, moving over a dark blue vein.

“Now…you come sit down,” Armie threw off the blanket, rubbing down his stomach, landing on the inside of his upper thigh, fingers splayed.

“Right here.”

Timmy moved his hands to the buttons, the zipper of his jeans but Armie’s hands stopped him.

“No. Leave everything on.”

Timmy steadied himself on the back of the couch with one hand, letting himself be semi-suspended in air, slowly placing his leg on the other side of Armie’s hip.

He lowered himself on top, Armie watching, not helping. He only reached out to touch once Timmy was fully settled, rocking back; denim on thin, dark red boxer briefs. Armie ran his hands up Timmy’s covered thighs, gripping his bony hips above his waist band.

Timmy smiled, lips chapped, lopsided, his hands palms down on Armie’s stomach under a plain white cotton t-shirt.

“Now what?”  Timmy was still whispering, a rumble in his tired chest.

“Now…”

Armie hitched Timmy forward, Timmy catching himself on either side of Armie. He rolled his hips on the way back up, sitting up straight.

“You want it like that?”

Armie nodded.

“Yeah. Just like this.”

Armie raised his hips, pushing their cocks together through layers of fabric, Timmy finding a rhythm, slow, purposeful, skilled.

Armie felt like a teenager again lying there, letting himself be rubbed against through clothing, but there wasn’t time for more, this would have to do for now, for tonight.

“Do you want me to delete her photo?” Timmy’s voice was a whine, rolling his hips against Armie below. He was holding himself up on his knees, leaning forward to get just close enough to Armie’s face for his curls to touch down on his forehead, just close enough for the sour alcohol smell of his mouth to hit Armie, then snatching, pulling himself back again.

“No. Doesn’t matter.” He grabbed Timmy around the waist now, planting him firmly on top of his cock until he was sure every ounce of Timmy’s body weight was resting there.

“Look where you are now.”

Timmy nodded; head back, teeth on his bottom lip.

Another tug securing Timmy against him until his own cock ached.

“And where is she?”

“Who cares?” Timmy hissed. He was a sex drunk serpent; dry fucking on a couch like it was five years ago.  

Armie was up against every part of Timmy that he wanted right now, groaning springs beneath them; growing wet spots between them.

He liked that he didn’t have to do much, just kept him in place, kept him quiet.

Armie watched as Timmy came in his jeans without shame, burying a moan in Armie’s collarbone, his neck, hands clenched in bone thin fists on either side of his head.

He held Timmy, hand on the back of a sweat soaked t-shirt, mumbling something in his hair about hopping in the shower and finding his way to the guest room. Maybe he’d carry him there; maybe he would watch him while he showered, pretending to read his phone.

Armie didn’t let himself get off, he let Timmy’s pleasure unfurl against his, forcing his cock and heartbeat to slow down. His instead was a pleasure born of victory, a worthless opponent already forgotten.

**Author's Note:**

> Iknowthebattle on Tumblr as always


End file.
